


Budget Week

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [27]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-06-06 11:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15193529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: Even superheroes have to account for office supplies. Unfortunately, it is now Darcy's job to review budgets for the new division heads for the Yinsen Foundation. Remind me again, what's the purchasing code for semi-automatic weapons?Takes place 2/13/17 - 2/18/17





	1. Research Division

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't get over the image of Natasha having to fill out a requisition form. So this happened.

_**February 13, 2017** _

 

_You can’t be serious_ , is what Darcy wanted to say. Followed closely by,  _why?_ She said neither of those things, instead taking a deep breath and meeting the serene gaze of the Black Widow.

She wasn’t in uniform, but Darcy was under no illusions that this wasn’t an arena for battle.

“This is not an insignificant sum,” she managed calmly.

“It is not an insignificant line item,” the Black Widow countered. 

Darcy straightened her new navy blouse – a present to herself to psych her up for what she was confident would, at best, be a long and arduous week. Starting the budget meetings with Natasha was supposed to ease her into it. Natasha was the sane one, the reasonable one. Or so Darcy had thought. She glanced down at the tablet in front of her again.

_Soft Resource Intelligence Management_

And off to the right, under the column for estimated 2017-2018 annual expenses...Darcy couldn’t look at the number without feeling sweat collect under her arms. She knew from the beginning that running the Avengers as an independent agency would be expensive – hell, Tony alone was a walking advertisement for ‘Act of God’ and ‘Natural Disaster’ insurance – she just hadn’t thought it would be  _this_ expensive. She could run an entire state on what Natasha had proposed for just her department. 

_A smaller state. New Hampshire. Or fiscally conservative. Maybe North Dakota._

Fiscally conservative. That had been her goal. Her first year with the Avengers and Darcy had been holding onto the hope that she would be able to point out how much better - more efficiently and with less all around fucking up - they could manage things on their own under the new structure. Based on the numbers, she could maybe do half of that.

“I feel it is probably unnecessary, but I am still going to reiterate – so I can say that I did, you do know that Tony is only bankrolling us through July 1, right? After that, Yinsen is going to be fending for itself.”

“I was under the impression Tony still intended to donate a large sum annually.”

“Well, yeah,” Darcy squirmed in her seat. “Not just him, though. There are other donors, our board members, some governments – under strict guidelines, of course. There’s the merchandising revenue, and we’ve already received some small contributions from people that you guys saved at one time or another.”

“And my internal revenue stream.” Natasha highlighted a new row on their shared document and Darcy cursed. _That is a fuckload of money. Where was Natasha going to get – no, no, don’t ask. Not essential to the process. Plausible deniability. Being able to sleep at night without the aid of narcotics – priceless._

“The point is,” Darcy stomped on her internal debate to force the conversation back on track, “you may have to answer some questions. Or at least be willing to hear questions. Not everyone is Tony.”

“And for that, we are all grateful.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow.

Darcy smiled in acknowledgment. “I’m not saying you wouldn’t put it to good use or anything, but...” Darcy didn’t have any polite words to express herself in this situation. “ Just - goddamn Nat! Can’t you just use the same blow torch and pliers on each guy? Or, I don’t know, buy used?”

“Darcy,” Nat paused, her lips twitching, “what do you think Soft Resource Intelligent Management is?”

“Um, interrogations?”

Natasha laughed. She threw back her head and closed her eyes, the sound sweet and full and filling the conference room with mirth. Darcy couldn’t help but grin in response, even if it was at her expense. Literally at her expense. “Bribes, Darcy. It’s mostly bribes. Some regular informant pay. Some data purchase.” 

Darcy breathed a sigh of relief too soon.

“And the occasional blow torch,” Natasha continued. Her face was still smiling, but Darcy couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not. “I prefer pre-owned equipment. Less easy to trace any stray fluid or tissue samples back to me.”

“Let’s table this and move on for now,” she sounded remarkably calm. Darcy wasn’t sure how she managed it. She scanned down the page for office supplies, hoping to at least be able to approve something simple. “Let’s take a look at- fuck all, Nat! Are you seriously-? Photostatic veils are not an office supply!”

“Should I have listed them under Personal Safety Equipment?”


	2. Training and Recruitment Division

**February 13, 2017**

 

“No.”

“Maybe I’m explaining this wrong. It comes with a crane system, so the submarine wouldn’t be in the pool all the time, just-”

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Clint.
> 
> I can see him going home that night and explaining to Laura that his plan worked beautifully. Darcy couldn't wait to approve everything else once he 'compromised' on the submarine thing. Darcy womanfully suppresses the urge to beat him about the head with a baseball bat.


	3. Operations Division

**February 14, 2017**

 

“Steve, you hardly have anything in here for support personnel.”

“The fewer people on the ground, the fewer people can get hurt. Tony’s been reworking the Iron Legion with new, direct command protocols. By next year I think he’ll have something I am comfortable with having in the field.”

“And what happens in the meantime?

Steve shrugged, looking both professional and erstwhile in his dark suit and tie. He had a pocket square –  _because of course he fucking does_ – and Darcy had been three seconds away from saying to hell with the budget and pulling him across the table –  _two weeks and I think I’ve contracted some sort of nymphomania from his cock, maybe super serum enhances pheromones_ \- when she saw his idea of backup for the team. The only thing that kept her from yelling at him about his own safety was the knowledge that Steve honestly hated to put anyone in danger. She thought maybe it had been different, with SHIELD, when everyone around him had been buff, skilled operatives who were stuffed to the gills with volunteerism, firearms, and duty. Even the HYDRA plants, although their duty was misplaced. And homicidal. But then he spent a year on the run, planning ops with nothing but his own team and whatever tech T’Challa was willing to lend him or Natasha could steal. It had given him the sense that not only could he go it alone, he should go it alone.

Not on Darcy’s watch.

“Steve,” Darcy paused and took a breath. She _could_ just tell him to take his ridiculous, self-sacrificing bullshit and to come back when he had a real proposal or she would set the budget for him. She technically had the authority do that. But she was planning on sleeping at his place that night, and she suspected that he might be making something special for dinner too. It was amazing how quickly she had gotten used to regular home cooked meals and enthusiastic orgasms. Maybe there was some substance behind the old adage that you shouldn’t date co-workers. You definitely shouldn’t date subordinates, if that was the case. And you should never, ever date the person responsible for feeding you if you were also planning on overriding their work decisions. Darcy liked her roasts with potatoes and silky gravy and her foreplay long and zealous. Maintaining her regular supply of both while still treating Steve like any other colleague was tricky. _Conflict resolution, you can do this,_ Darcy told herself.

“Steve, wouldn’t you feel more comfortable if you knew the people handling crowd control and clean-up for the team? I mean, it isn’t exactly my forte, but I’ve watched some of the footage of your previous missions. Including the Invasion of Manhattan. I’d think it would be easier if someone you trusted could liaison with LEOs and take direct orders from you over a comm if civilians needed to be relocated or something. And afterward, they could be the first line of communication with the press. I’m not planning on sending my people into a war zone – I mean, have you met Tommy?” Darcy rolled her eyes and snorted. “Sweet mother of pearl that guy would be hit by friendly fire, assuming he didn’t just fall down an open manhole or something – but PR could give some topical training to your support people. It would keep questions off of the team while you are dealing with important stuff and let us get an immediate handle on media coverage.”

Steve sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful, but not completely upset or stubborn. Well, no more stubborn than usual. Darcy decided to press her advantage.

“I’ve only seen a very rough draft of Clint’s training requests, but I don’t think he would put anyone out there with you that couldn’t handle themselves.” She smirked, “And I think he asked Nat to help screen candidates, so loyalty and basic decency shouldn’t be an issue.”

Steve responded slowly, “I wouldn’t want anyone who wasn’t fully vetted and trained.”

“Understandable. And doable.”

“And I’d want to clear them myself.”

“That you can take up with Clint. You two can duke it out for who gets to hand out the badges and graduation certificates.”

“Maybe I should get his input on this. See how many he thinks he’ll have in the first class. It would certainly open up some possibilities on the field...”

“How about I reschedule your division for tomorrow afternoon? That should give you time to talk to Clint and take another look at your numbers.”

“Yeah. I...yeah,” he nodded decisively and gave her a small smile. “I don’t want you rearranging your schedule just for me though. No special treatment.”

“I already reserved all day on Thursday for rewrites. If nothing else, I figured Tony would need the extra review.” Darcy saved the documents they had been working on and closed out, laying her tablet to the side. “And believe me when I say,” she bit her lip and looked at Steve in his dark suit and that stupid, adorable, fucking _hot_ pocket square, “you definitely get special treatment. And, hey, look, my morning just opened up, so I could pencil you in for that sort of thing right now.”

Steve glanced behind her at the glass wall that had been turned opaque for the meetings, seeming to consider how likely it would be that they would be overheard. Although, given how her own imagination was running rampant, Darcy was having a tough time pinning down his expression. He might have been thinking about appropriate workplace behavior or the best way to use his tie to keep her hands out of the way. Maybe both. Steve had depth.

A slow, almost bashful smile had her panties feeling suddenly too warm.  _That cocksure fucking tease._ Darcy loved it.

“Well, if you’re sure I won’t be inconveniencing you Ms. Lewis...”

Darcy pressed an icon on her phone to lock the conference room and ensure total privacy. She slipped her suit jacket off her shoulders and reached for the hidden blouse zipper under her arm. “Captain Rogers, the only way you could inconvenience me is if I have to take off your pants myself.”

“Oh, Sweetheart...”


	4. Development Division

**February 14, 2017**

 

Tony wasn’t even looking at her, instead digging though the mini fridge in the conference room and muttering about the deplorable state of her sparkling water variety. Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose and pushed out a breath. When she opened her eyes again, her tablet still showed the same spreadsheet.

_Miscellaneous Expenditures_

And in the expense column: _$100,000,000_.

It was the only line item.

She considered laughing at him. Laughing and then telling him to go back and redo his budget. She considered calling Pepper and asking her to make Tony fall in line. She considered having Friday check Tony’s files on the off chance he might have at least done some rough drafts – hell, even some notes or research, on a legitimate budget. She considered locking the door and going through the whole thing, one fucking paperclip at a time if necessary, until Tony begged for mercy and actually took the process seriously. Darcy checked the time. Four hours until she was supposed to leave the office – five until she had told Steve she would be leaving the office, just to give herself some cushion. She needed to ask herself the same question she had in eleventh grade English: was her time better spent tutoring Kolby Venton on iambic pentameter or just doing the group assignment herself?

Except replace Kolby Venton, pleasantly adorable dummy, with Tony Stark, mildly abrasive genius, and iambic pentameter with funding for the weapons, toys, and armor that would keep her boyfriend and the rest of his team safe. Not to mention the world. And instead of risking detention, she would be risking Tony always dumping this sort of thing off on her.

So.

Basically the same situation.

“What are the chances that you are going to redo this on your own?”

Tony stood and shrugged, opening a bottle of Ferrarelle. “Slim to none? I’m giving the money for this circus, and if I go over budget? Who cares, I’ll just pay for it myself or donate more. If the team needs something, they need it and no budget or spreadsheet is going to make that decision for us. Oh, you want more bullets, Siberian Steve? No can do, not in the budget. Stateside Steve, I know you’d like some non-lethal measures, but the line item was expended second quarter – so no can do.” He did a passable imitation of Natasha, “My cover requires I enter a drinking contest with a brigade of Irish footballers. I need a prosthetic liver. _Teper’_.” Tony mimed adjusting his breasts, then shooting someone. In a more normal voice he continued, “You want to be the one to tell Nat no on that? You going to be responsible for the failure of the strongest Russian liquor constitution to ever defect being drown in an unnecessary tragedy of poor-quality whiskey? I know I don’t. I want to give the team what they need. I want to support them. That means I can’t be fettered by unrealistic boundaries and arbitrary limitations. I can’t be tied down, Lewis. I need to go where my genius takes me. I’m a free spirit, a free thinker, a free-”

“-radical?” Darcy suggested.

“Funny.” He looked more amused than Darcy felt.

“So, basically, you don’t want to do this, so you aren’t going to?”

“On the nose. Got it in one. I knew there was a reason I hired you, Lewis.”

“I could make you,” Darcy stated evenly, just to judge his reaction.

He nodded in concession. “Probably. But is this the hill you want to die on?”

“Can Friday keep track of your expenses and any overages by line item and send me monthly updates?”

“Of course, Ms. Lewis,” Friday responded.

“And you’ll sign off on what I give you, no arguments – and no shenanigans with the Board of Directors? Including Hank?”

Tony made a face at the mention of Hank Pym, but nodded slowly.

“And you personally, not SI, will cover anything you spend above and beyond approved amounts?”

“Don’t worry, the lawyers are already drawing up the correct paperwork to donate Clint’s new submarine to Yinsen.”

For a brief second, Darcy was almost sidetracked with the notion of what it must be like to serve on Tony’s personal legal team. _Buy this submarine and give it away. Find out how I can keep all llamas five hundred yards or more away from me. Apologize to Cher. She’ll know why._

“You will show up to the annual Board meeting – in clean clothes – and look attentive. You will bring up issues to me before you call press conferences on Avengers matters. No more than three passive aggressive gift baskets will be sent to Tommy in any one year. And there will be no office parties with clowns, professional dancers, or Disney executives.”

“But-”

“None.”

“Done.”

Tony was grinning and holding out his hand to shake. Darcy was immediately suspicious. He had given in too easily, she was certain. There was a loophole in there somewhere that he was going to exploit, and she was going to regret it. Desperately, desperately regret it. All the regret. Like, a liter of Southern Comfort kind of regret. Spring break on the Texas Gulf kind of regret. Dating Brenden kind of regret.

 _Okay. Probably not that bad._ Tony wasn’t a sadist or anything.

“I’ll take care of this year – but future years are subject to negotiation.”

Tony looked slightly less excited, but was still smiling. “Agreed.”

 “You know,” Darcy said as she put her hand in his and felt her fate seal like the ominous closing of a submarine hatch, “this is how Mephistopheles got his start.”

 “Oh, obviously. Accounting is truly the devil’s work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm sure this will end well.


	5. Security Division

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Bucky. A BAMF with that dimple and good a balancing a checkbook? Be still my heart.

**February 15, 2017**

 

 

Bucky was sitting up so straight it made Darcy’s back hurt to look at him. She had been an hour late to their meeting,  _mmm a very Happy Valentine’s Steve_ , and had been dreading her final Avengers budget review. On Monday she had been too scared to cut anything from Natasha’s budget, worried that every potential purchase was really a vital, life or death essential item. Was printer code for ID forger? If the budget was reduced would Wanda one day be caught at the border to Pakistan with a low quality passport and exposed? Then there had been Clint’s proposal. He had spent so long winding her up with red herrings -  _“An indoor ski slope is essential to adequate preparation, do you have any idea how many good men and women have been lost for want of proper pole coordination?”_ \- that she had almost missed his careful manipulation. And by then it was seven thirty, she was late for dinner, and she just didn’t give a shit that he had pulled one over on her. Next year, though.

_Sweet, sweet comeuppance._

Working with Steve had proved challenging, because he honestly wanted to know the ins and outs of how his division would work and make sure it was adequately provided for and because he had never seen – much less prepared – a budget before. It had also been the most rewarding. The final product was solid, and Darcy now knew the stress limits for the conference room chairs. Win, win.

Tony was Tony.

It was only Wednesday, and Darcy had prepared herself for another meeting that would run long. She had assumed that James Barnes would require just as much instruction and review as Steve, with the added bonus of all of the trolling. She figured that they had four or five hours of hard work ahead of them. Enjoyable, with friendly banter, snide comments, and at least a few blackmail worthy stories about Steve, but still work.

Darcy had rarely enjoyed being wrong so much.

“This is perfect,” she blurted.

Bucky raised one eyebrow, his mouth quirking in that barely-there smile that could drop panties from ten yards. Steve had given Darcy a certain level of immunity, but she still appreciated the aesthetic appeal. 

“Were you expecting a crayon note?” He pressed his finger to the table as if writing, “Many bullets. All the guns. And then just a bunch of dollar signs?”

“Maybe?”

“I was a Sergeant in the Army before Steve ever got himself pumped up with muscles. You know what a Sergeant does? Paperwork. All of it. Requisitions and payroll requests and inventory. I was always pretty good at math, so at least it wasn’t hard. Just boring as hell – might as well get it done right the first time instead of pussyfooting around and dragging it out.” 

Darcy closed out of the document, reminding herself to go through it one more time before the Board meeting, and then set down her tablet. She stood, walked around the table until she was right next to Bucky, then leaned down so their faces were inches apart. He didn’t pull away, but his posture had gone stiff and tense.

“James Barnes, if I hadn’t been laid twice already this morning, I would kiss your fucking mouth.”

“Doll, I think you get a little too excited about spreadsheets.”

She patted his cheek, “Jimmy, just wait until we get to staff evaluations.”


	6. Tommy, et. al.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had someone ask how this 'Tommy' guy got hired.

**February 16, 2017**

 

Half of the heads around the table turned to stare. The other half were looking anywhere else, as if hoping that might give them the appearance that they hadn’t heard, didn’t know that guy, and oh-gosh-I-actually-have-things-and-stuff-to-do-right-now-so-sorry-must-dash. Darcy womanfully repressed the urge to bang her face against her own tablet. Tommy continued talking, completely oblivious to the tone of the room.

“A significant other would really soften her image, make her more approachable. And if we set aside funds for it, we could ensure that they went on some nice dates somewhere public – secluded, but not pretentious. I’m not saying we should hire an escort or something – the opposite. Her choice, any man – or woman...actually,” Tommy paused, and Darcy prayed harder than she had ever prayed before that he would shut the fuck up. Or have a spontaneous seizure and hit his head on the floor – falling unconscious. Or dead. Dead wouldn’t be _entirely_ bad.

“A woman might be better. Makes her more relatable and checks some boxes with the LGBTQ community that we are really missing right now. I think Portia de Rossi is single, and demographic surveys suggest-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Tom.” Darcy held up her hand, and then continued holding it there while she tried to find the phrasing that wouldn’t be construed as making the workplace an unsafe environment. “This idea...is jump starting a lot of avenues for me.” _Like the one where I get charged with intent to solicit. Also, the one where I stab you in the mouth. Repeatedly._ “Definitely a lot to think about there.” _Like how minority populations are more than poll numbers and how Natasha will destroy Tommy if he suggests her image needs ‘softening’._ “Let me noodle on that for a while, say until-” _Hell freezes over or Jane takes up needlepoint, whichever comes last._ “-next quarter, after the budget is finalized. I think we have enough goals for this year that we can wait to possibly revisit a,” Darcy could feel the words coming out of her mouth and taste the bitter oil of stupidity they left behind, “ _Consort Display_ line item next year.”

Tommy nodded, disappointed but understanding, and Darcy quickly decided that she could wrap up the rest of the general budget herself.

“Okay, people. Good job today. Go ahead and get things prepped for tomorrow and then take off early if you want. One more day and then budget week is over.” There were smiles and thanks and one, lonely _woo_ among the crowd as they filed out of the conference room. As soon as the door closed, Darcy did let her head fall onto the table.

“If I may, Ms. Lewis?”

“Go ahead, Friday.” Darcy waved at the ceiling. “Let me have it.”

“I have been attempting to extrapolate the outcomes of potential scenarios from the behaviors and interactions of the individuals I monitor, and I am...unable to determine why you retain the services of Thomas Woodbridge.”

“Oh, really?” Darcy sat back in her chair, taking the last swallow of her cold coffee and grimacing through the taste. Whatever Friday had to say was sure to be interesting, so she wanted to be awake for it.

“He is socially awkward, unable to speak to most of the Avengers and fleeing the room when he encounters Mr. Stark. His co-workers seem to dislike interacting with him and have, on three separate occasions, claimed lunch plans and left the building – abandoning the lunches they brought with them, rather than sit in the breakroom with him. And, if it is not too inappropriate for me to state, I do not think you like him.”

“All of those things are true, Friday. Too, too true.”

“Then why not, as Ms. Potts has put it, help him not to work here?”

“Two things. One. Tommy is a wordsmith. A goddamn genius with spin. He could take a picture of Bucky Barnes stepping on a puppy and with a few keystrokes have the entire internet feeling oh-so sorry for and desirous of helping that brave POW in his efforts to make a friend that they would be sending the man chew toys, dog ownership for dummies books, and offering to give him one-on-one tutorials in ‘companionship’.” Darcy made air quotes and smiled at the thought. For a brief moment considering taking Bucky to an animal shelter – just to see the look on his face when she suggested that the ‘tweeters’ would like to see him with a bosom buddy

“That,” she continued, “I could get over. He would be hard to replace, but not impossible. This is New York. I could have a hundred applicants just as skilled and drooling to work with the Avengers in here for an interview tomorrow. But, unfortunately – or fortunately for him, I guess, Tommy has one other useful skill.”

“I am afraid I do not understand, Ms. Lewis.”

“He’s a taste maker. A trendsetter. Dude has a social media following that makes the Kardashians look like amateurs. I know in person he has all the personality of a four-day-old clam, but through the filter of virtual reality he is apparently very likable. When he put out that thing about Sam having a nice pair of boots, Sam got a quarter of a million followers within twenty-four hours on Twitter and the company that makes the boots sold out in three days. In every country. They called to see if he’d be a spokesman for them.”

There was a long silence. Darcy had begun to clean up her area, assuming that Friday was done with the conversation, when the AI spoke.

“If I am understanding correctly, you continue to employ someone who is excellent at his job but unable to work with people because Sam Wilson now gets free footwear.”

Darcy grinned. “Pretty much. Really,” she set her empty mug and half eaten bagel in the bin for housekeeping services to take care of when they came by to clean, “my biggest complaint isn’t even the nervous hand wringing when Steve comes by or the bizarre and suicidal-adjacent suggestions.” She gathered up her tablet, phone, and discarded blazer and started for the door. “I hired him almost four fucking months ago and that ungrateful little snot hasn’t put my fabulousness on instagram even once. Where are my free shoes, huh Friday? Where?”

“Is this, then, a termination-level offense?”

“You bet your sweet server banks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I am working on more Bucky/Evie and Tony&Maria shenanigans, but I wanted to finish this one up first. And how much trouble can Tony and Maria really get into anyway? I'm sure they're fine.
> 
> Right?
> 
> Right?


End file.
